


something like this

by redluxite (wordstruck)



Series: VLD One-Shots [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character(s), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 18:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/redluxite
Summary: It's not just anyone, either. Shiro hasn't spoken to Keith since he'd helped Lotor save him in the lake for the second task, after Lotor had had a nasty run-in with the giant squid and nearly hadn't made it in time. Since then Shiro's been preoccupied with a sudden throng of admirers and figuring out how to ask Keith to the ball.Keith. Lotor’s childhood friend, Durmstrang’s pride and joy. The youngest Seeker for the Marmora Blades in a century, whose inspired and instinctive flying skills had won them the last Quidditch Champions League off a death-defying nosedive and last minute swerve. Keith, who had a laugh like a summer rainstorm (and twice as sweet); whose eyes reminded Shiro of nights on top of the Astronomy tower; who was bright and brilliant and--Okay, maybe Matt had a point. Shiro does kind of have it… bad.Or, Shiro's the Hogwarts champion, Keith's entirely too good at flying, and the Yule Ball is coming up. Shiro maybe wants Keith to come with him.





	something like this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sochan/gifts).



> There is a lack of Harry Potter AUs and I am here to fix that. Also, I've been itching to write a Triwizard AU for a while now, so here we are. Pry Durmstrang Keith from my cold, dead fingers. (Also, Lotor and Allura are both part Veela.)
> 
> Written for brighteststarus and capt_shiro on Twitter. This was honestly just supposed to be a short fic but it clearly got out of hand.
> 
> Largely un-beta'd, so I'll edit retrospectively as needed. I hope you all like this <3

* * *

 

 _This is ridiculous,_ Shiro thinks to himself for the he's-lost-count-of-how-many-times.

He's the Hogwarts Triwizard champion. He's the Head Boy and the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. He's the backup Keeper for the Garrison Galaxies. He'd faced down a _dragon_ in the first task, for fuck’s sake.

And yet somehow, the prospect of asking someone to the Yule Ball is still far more daunting than anything he's done in his seventeen years of existence.

It's not just anyone, either. Shiro hasn't spoken to Keith since he'd helped Lotor save him in the lake for the second task, after Lotor had had a nasty run-in with the giant squid and nearly hadn't made it in time. Since then Shiro's been preoccupied with a sudden throng of admirers and figuring out how to ask Keith to the ball.

 _Keith_. Lotor’s childhood friend, Durmstrang’s pride and joy. The youngest Seeker for the Marmora Blades in a century, whose inspired and instinctive flying skills had won them the last Quidditch Champions League off a death-defying nosedive and last minute swerve. Keith, who had a laugh like a summer rainstorm (and twice as sweet); whose eyes reminded Shiro of nights on top of the Astronomy tower; who was bright and brilliant and--

Okay, maybe Matt had a point. Shiro does kind of have it… bad.

Shiro frowns at himself in the mirror of the prefects’ bathroom and exhales sharply. It isn't like he hasn't asked Keith to spend time together before. They've had more than a few impromptu, inter-school, five-a-side Quidditch matches (which Shiro and his Hogwarts compatriots have lost, every time). Shiro's taken Keith to Hogsmeade twice. They've spent several afternoons together around the Hogwarts grounds.

But the Yule Ball is - different. Intentional. _Meaningful._

Shiro sighs and turns to slide into the massive tub, scrunching his eyes shut. Maybe he can just -- not invite Keith, or anyone at all. Maybe he can bribe Matt into going with him. Or maybe Hunk will have pity. Hell, maybe he'll ask Pidge -- fourth years and under aren't allowed without a senior student as a partner, after all, so he's pretty sure she'd agree.

(He won't, of course. Shiro knows what he wants, and he's got nothing to lose by asking, except perhaps some pride. Still, he thinks he's entitled to a little whining.)

 _I think I'd rather face the dragon again,_ Shiro thinks with a small, self-deprecating snort.

He'll figure out a way. Somehow. The Yule Ball isn't for another five weeks. He's got time.

…...provided no one asks Keith first, of course.

Shiro groans and sinks into the water. Prospective death by dragonfire had been _way_ less daunting than this.

 

Pining in the bath over and done with, Shiro does find himself an opening to ask Keith a few days later. A mishap in the fifth year class renders the Charms classrooms unusable for the rest of the day, which frees up the rest of Shiro's afternoon. Lance finds him in the corridors, and yells at him to drag Matt over so they can challenge the Durmstrang lot to another Quidditch match.

“And this time we're _definitely_ beating that mullet head and his team,” Lance adds, scowling.

Shiro just smiles and pats his shoulder. There is, of course, no way they're beating the Durmstrang players -- Shiro had learned very early on that neither Keith nor Lotor pulled their punches in a Quidditch match, even informal ones, and Lotor is as formidable a Chaser as Keith is a Seeker. Their very first match had ended with Lotor and Acxa sending the Quaffle past him a whopping sixteen times in a flurry of terrifying mid-air manuevers. Keith catching the Snitch after nine minutes had been a mercy.

“I'll get Hunk and Rolo,” Lance adds, clapping Shiro on the arm. “Meet you down at the pitch in ten?”

Shiro thinks about their schedules, and realizes Matt is currently in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Honerva.

“Maybe fifteen,” he hedges, just to be safe.

 

In the end, it takes nearly half an hour to pry Matt away from his after-class consultation, and that's only _after_ Matt asks Professor Honerva if he can drop by her office before dinner. Their teacher gives Shiro a relieved smile as he hauls Matt off to the Ravenclaw dormitories to pick up his broom and change. After that, it's another quick stop at the Hufflepuff dorms, and then the two friends book it through a shortcut in the kitchens and out by the Great Hall.

When they get to the Quidditch pitch, Keith and Lotor are engaged in another one of their races, weaving through and around the bleachers and rafters before streaking up into the air. Lotor’s a skilled flyer, and he keeps up with Keith up until they reach the peak of their upward spirals -- then Keith deftly peels away with a tightly-controlled, hairpin turn that pitches him down at a steep angle, which Lotor can't replicate. By the time Lotor reaches the level of the Quidditch hoops, Keith is looping around the pitch with a victorious smirk.

Shiro slows down his pace to watch, eyes following Keith's path of flight. The Durmstrang boy is beautiful at the best of times -- in the lights of the Great Hall, or flushed with the warmth of Butterbeer, or splashing his friends on the shores of the lake -- but Keith in flight is absolutely breathtaking.

The way he takes to the air, moves through it -- like he was born for flight.

Shiro could watch him forever.

Matt is considerably less enthused.

“Get locked in the Room of Requirement already,” his friend mutters, whacking Shiro upside the head. Shiro's indignant yelp and Matt's smug laughter carry over the pitch as they make their way to their friends.

“Took you long enough,” Lance grumbles, reaching out to sock Matt in the shoulder.

“D.A.D.A.,” Shiro says, and everyone nods in understanding.

“Did he ask to meet with her again later?” Rolo asks, much too innocuously.

“I had some questions--” Matt starts defensively, but then Rolo cracks up and sets everyone else off too.

Shiro chuckles along, patting his friend consolingly, but then movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention. Lotor and Keith are coming back down, laughing and play-shoving at each other. Keith almost unseats Lotor, who nimbly executes a roll in mid-air and loops over Keith.

“Show-off,” Lance grumbles, pouting. Shiro taps him on the head, chiding. There's no love lost between his friend and the Durmstrang Triwizard champion -- Lance at least grudgingly respects Keith, but Lotor seems to grate at Lance in all the wrong ways. Lotor's immediate, immense popularity with half the female (and male) population of Hogwarts hadn't helped in the slightest.

Then Keith touches down gracefully, sliding off his broom in one fluid motion almost as soon as it's low enough that he can drop to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking it loose of the low ponytail it had been falling out of. Shiro watches him push the strands back from his face, cheeks flushed from the chill and the exertion, and he forgets about Lance entirely.

“Hey,” he says, very elegantly. (Behind him, Matt snorts in contempt.)

“Oh, hey Shiro.” Keith looks away from Lotor and the other Durmstrang students to smile at Shiro, catching him off-guard. To the side, Lotor smirks.

“Lance says you want another match?” the Durmstrang champion asks, sidling up to hook his arm over Keith's shoulder. Behind Shiro, he hears Lance make a derisive noise.

“If you're up for it,” Matt parries smoothly, coming to stand by his friend.

Lotor raises his eyebrows, regally disdainful. “All that posturing isn't going to help you win.”

“Neither does being a cocky piece of--” Lance gets cut off as Shiro neatly steps on his foot.

“Yes,” Shiro says, smiling tightly. He might respect Lotor as a competitor in the tournament and on the Quidditch pitch, but he's not particularly fond of the Durmstrang champion either. And because Shiro's not above pettiness, he adds, “if you're up to it.”

(Matt presses his lips together tight. Lance grins. Lotor's eyebrows climb to his hairline. But Keith's eyes twinkle as they meet Shiro's, quiet amusement, and that's the only reaction that matters.)

“Well we're all here,” Keith points out, nudging his childhood friend in the ribs before Lotor can scathingly retort. “So if you don't mind losing again, then let's do this.”

“Oh we are _not_ losing this time,” Lance butts in, puffing his chest up. He glares at Keith, pushing between Shiro and Matt and drawing to his full height.

“How many times have you said that?” Lotor asks blithely.

Shiro looks to the heavens. Matt presses a hand to his forehead. Lance bristles and takes the bait.

“Fine,” he snaps, turning his scowl on Lotor. “Let's up the stakes then, shall we? How about loser has to do one thing the winner wants?”

 _Brilliant, Lance,_ Shiro thinks, squeezing his eyes shut. Unfortunately, there's no taking it back now.

Lotor's smirking now, glancing back at where Acxa and the rest stand. Acxa shrugs, amused. Even Keith looks a little condescending, if bemused.

“Why not?” Lotor turns back to them, teeth bared in a not-quite-grin.

Shiro's grip tightens around his broom. He squares his shoulders, meets Lotor dead-on.

“Then let's do this.”

 

Shiro takes a lot of pride his Quidditch skills and those of his friends. None of the five of them are slouches on the pitch; Shiro's faced them more than enough times to know. Hunk has a mean swing with a Bludger; Lance and Rolo have excellent precision with the Quaffle; and Matt is a pesky thing with a knack for picking up the Snitch when least expected.

Shiro himself is the best player at Hogwarts, the pride of his school. He'd been scouted by the Garrison Galaxies a year prior, and currently plays backup to their main Keeper, a lithe but powerful man named Sven. With Shiro manning the hoops, Hufflepuff have won the Quidditch cup three years running.

But in the face of the Durmstrang team’s skill, it's all they can do just to keep within reach.

Lotor and Keith both are the youngest recruits of the Marmora Blades, prodigy players with flight skills that are the envy of players several years their seniors. Lotor alone is a Keeper's nightmare, unerringly accurate with his Quaffle shots and far too good at out-maneuvering anyone who defends him. When partnered with Acxa, they make a downright pain in the ass. Ezor has almost pitched all of them off their brooms with the strength of her Bludger hits. And Narti is a menace of a Keeper, her anticipation skills bordering on the preternatural.

The Hogwarts team keeps pace for all of ten minutes.

It's a commendable effort, all in all.

 

Shiro pitches after Lotor's Quaffle throw, only to miss it by the tips of his fingers. He swerves to avoid ramming straight into a hoop, and pulls himself around just in time to see Keith swoop down behind Hunk and pluck the Snitch from right by the boy's ear.

Game over, in seventeen minutes.

Keith loops around to high five Lotor, grinning in satisfaction. Acxa whoops and dives at him, sending them all laughing when Keith has to haul himself sideways in an abrupt motion to avoid getting slammed. Lance pulls up beside Shiro, panting in exhaustion.

“Good effort,” Shiro says warmly, if a little short of breath. Lance exhales heavily, but even he knows when they're well-beaten.

“Freaking half-Galra prodigies,” Lance gripes, and Matt cuffs him on the head in passing.

“I've never been so glad for a match to be over,” Hunk gasps, skittering to a halt just under them, Rolo right behind him.

(Shiro privately agrees.)

“Well,” he says out loud, with a resigned sigh, watching the Durmstrang team touching down and joking around, “time to face the music.”

 

“Keith can pick,” Lotor says with a shrug, as he brushes his hair out of his eyes. His childhood friend turns to him, eyes wide in disbelief, but the rest of his teammates are already moving to pick up their stuff.

“I'm sure you can think of something,” Acxa adds with a grin and a wink, clapping him on the shoulder.

“See you, Champion,” Ezor adds cheekily.

Shiro looks from them to Keith in confusion. Keith is having a stare-down with his friends, which he evidently loses. Lotor presses a quick kiss to his forehead before ruffling his hair and smiling.

“See you back at the ship,” he says, expression going soft at the corners of his eyes. Keith rolls his eyes, but he smiles.

(Shiro's lips twist into a pinched expression. Something sharp sparks in his lungs.)

“I don't _want_ to do what mullet says,” Lance grumbles, hunching up and crossing his arms.

“This was _your_ idea,” Hunk reminds him with no sympathy, and Lance just pouts more.

“And thanks for that,” Rolo mutters.

“Nothing for it now,” Matt says cheerily.

Shiro glances at Keith, who's biting his lip and looking uncharacteristically nervous. When he flicks his gaze up and notices Shiro staring, he actually -- _blushes._

Shiro's heart decides to skip several beats, then jumps to his throat.

(Beside him, Matt has his hand clamped over Lance’s mouth as he and everyone else start to slowly edge away.

 _Don't you fucking dare,_ he begs Matt telepathically.

 _Good luck!!!_ Matt sends back to him via his shit-eating grin.

Traitor.)

“Shiro?” Keith looks up at him, teeth worrying at his lower lip. “Can I, uh. Talk. To you.”

Shiro swallows down the dryness in hid throat.

“Okay.”

 

Shiro is the Hogwarts Triwizard champion. He's the Head Boy, and the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. He's the backup Keeper for the Garrison Galaxies. He's faced a dragon, rescued his friend from the bottom of the lake.

He really shouldn't be this nervous in the presence of one boy.

But since that first day, meeting right here on the Quidditch pitch, Keith's always had a way of wrecking Shiro's best-laid intentions.

The Durmstrang boy looks up at him with an open, apprehensive expression.

 

(Shiro could get lost in those eyes. He really, really could.)

 

“Come to the Yule Ball with me,” Keith asks, in one quick breath.

Shiro blinks at him in surprise.

“I mean.” The tips of Keith's ears and the tops of his cheeks are red, so endearing and adorable. “Not just like, because we won the match or anything. But just if -- if you'd want to. I'd want you to. Come with me. Uhm--”

“Keith.”

The boy across him snaps his mouth shut, hands twisting the front of his robes.

Shiro would almost laugh in relief.

“Yes, Keith,” he says, and those stunning eyes light up like a constellation. “I'll go to the ball with you, if you'll have me.”

 

(And when Keith breaks into a smile, so breathtakingly sincere, Shiro maybe wants to kiss him.)

 

The castle of Hogwarts is full of light and chatter on the night of the Yule Ball, with the walls and the students bathed in the glow of a thousand glowing baubles and actual fairy lights. Snowflakes fall from the ceiling, dissipating before they touch the ground. Sweet music floats through the air.

Shiro stands at the base of the stairs by the Great Hall, and fiddles with his dress robes.

(Matt had assured him that he looked more than fine, but Matt had also once let him go on a date with a moustache scribbled on his face in Zonko's Indelible Ink, so he's still understandably self-conscious.)

The Beauxbatons champion, Allura, looks like royalty in her pink and white dress robes, her stunning hair pinned up with dozens of shimmering pins. Beside her, Lance still looks like he can't quite believe this is happening. When Shiro catches his eye and sends him a wordless _are you okay?_ expression, Lance just stares back at him in helpless disbelief.

Then the doors of the castle are thrown open again, and Shiro forgets everything else.

Lotor enters first, at the head of the Durmstrang entourage. He's commanding and regal in sweeping robes of indigo and deep purple, with Acxa at his side. But Shiro only has eyes for Keith, who trails behind his friend and fiddles with the trim of his cape.

He's -- gorgeous, in deep red uniform resemblant of the Galra nation military dress, matched with a sweeping one-shoulder cape. A medal with the crest of Durmstrang glints on the left side of his breast. His hair has been styled back from its usual sweeping mess, and when he sees Shiro, his lips curve up in a soft, shy smile.

Shiro looks at Keith, and tries to remember to breathe.

“Hey,” Keith says, coming to a stop in front of Shiro.

“Hey,” Shiro says, dazed.

“Champions!” Professor Montgomery calls their attention, gesturing for the three representatives of the schools to come forward.

Shiro draws a breath, then holds out his arm.

“Shall we?” he asks, smiling.

Keith loops his arm through Shiro's, and smirks.

“Lead the way, Champion.”

 

After the formalities and the lavish feast and the speeches; after Shiro's made an idiot out of himself by stepping all over Keith's feet during the champions’ opening dance; after all the conversation and stories, after Shiro's been stunned by the vision of Keith under the light of the baubles, head thrown back in laughter--

 _After_ finds Shiro and Keith down in the gardens, wandering amid the floating lights and bumping into each other. The music is fainter here, the atmosphere quieter and more intimate, and the nervousness thrums static under Shiro's skin.

“Shiro--”

“I, uh--”

They start and stop together, laughing sheepishly. Keith's expression is so terribly warm.

“You first,” he says, corner of his mouth quirking up.

Shiro scratches at his undercut and looks a little to the left.

“Sorry for stepping on your feet,” he says, feeling his face heat up. “I'm normally a lot less clumsy, I swear.”

“Shiro, it's fine--”

“No, really.” Now that he's started, Shiro can't seem to stop _saying things_. “I practiced with Pidge, even, and with Hunk’s girlfriend Shay, and they both said I did fine, really--”

“Shiro--”

“And I didn't think I'd be that nervous, I swear, but you just -- you look _really_ good and something about you kind of makes things go weird--”

“ _Shiro_.”

Keith stops him with a finger pressed to Shiro's lips. His own mouth is crumpled in repressed amusement, eyes sparkling in merriment. When he's ascertained that Shiro isn't going to ramble anymore, Keith withdraws and holds out his hand.

“Shirogane Takashi,” he says, and _oh_ Shiro would give himself a hundred times over to hear his name in that voice again, like it's mercy. Keith's eyes crinkle at the corners, terribly fond. “Ask me to dance.”

Shiro blinks once, twice. Takes a steadying breath.

"Keith,” he says, bowing and taking that slender hand in his. “Will you dance with me?”

It earns him a brighter smile and the briefest squeeze of fingers.

“Of course.”

 

The music is fainter here, the lights more dispersed, but Shiro twirls Keith around in the damp grass and smiles down at him. Keith sticks his tongue out playfully, making Shiro laugh. Everything feels so far away.

“You know,” Shiro muses, sliding his hands to span Keith's waist, “you still haven't asked for your prize.”

“Prize?” Keith asks, tilting his head.

“For the Quidditch match.” They're so close together now, breathing into the same spaces. Shiro's just a little lost in the way Keith looks. “I'm under the impression that coming to the ball with me doesn't count.”

“Hmm.” Keith tips his head back, pursing his lips in mock-concentration. Shiro's eyes scrunch up in fond amusement. “I can't really think of anything at the moment. Guess you'll have to wait.”

Shiro laughs again; his hands draw Keith against him. The flecks of light from the baubles reflect in those stunning eyes like starshine.

Shiro's lips brush against Keith's as he answers.

“I'll look forward to it, then.”

 

(Keith's lips part soft and warm as Shiro kisses him.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Come say hi on social media -- I'm on Twitter as [@okw_tr](https://twitter.com/okw_tr) and on Tumblr as [okwtr](https://okwtr.tumblr.com). You can check there for ways to support my writing!


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